


Driven to distraction

by Calamitous_Magpie



Series: Strange Fortunes [2]
Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Crushes, M/M, Pining, Some angst, hopefully, sorry this hiatus was so long it'll be shorter next time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calamitous_Magpie/pseuds/Calamitous_Magpie
Summary: Napoleon continues to pine over Laurence during the invasion of England.
Relationships: Napoleon Bonaparte & Lung Tien Lien, Napoleon Bonaparte/William Laurence
Series: Strange Fortunes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932226
Comments: 6
Kudos: 54





	Driven to distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Sorry this hiatus was so long. This is turning out to be longer than I thought it would be, and I'm going to have to reread large parts of the series. That said, I wanted to get this out to give you guys something, and I do have an outline for the whole series. I also don't know how much is going to be in this part because I didn't plan on it originally, lol. Hope you guys enjoy this!

It is strange to finally be in England. London is a bustling, bursting city, whose activity does not seemed to be dampened in the least by the war, though likely many of the residents have fled. How anyone lives here he cannot imagine; it is cold and damp and generally intolerable. Perhaps, Napoleon reflects, this is why the English are stiffer than their floorboards.

He has not stopped thinking of Laurence. It is beyond inconvenient.

“He is one man! There are many good men in the world! It was his choice to return!” He says to the empty room. It changes absolutely nothing. What if he could have saved him? Perhaps if he had pressed him harder, even kept him against his will - 

Napoleon shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts. Holding him as such a prisoner had been out of the question; the very idea is almost repulsive. And yet, it meant that Laurence would still be within his reach, under the Paris sunlight, golden-haired and lovely -

Napoleon is very, very close to banging his head against the walls when there is a knock on the door to the room that has temporarily become his study. The door is flung open before he can respond, and Murat waltzes in.

“You could not wait the five seconds it would take me to answer?”

“You will forgive me when you hear the news, though not all of it is good. Wellesley escaped surrender, but only narrowly; his lines were completely strung out.”

Annoying, if not fatal; defeating him now would have been the icing on the cake, but overall the matter could wait. There would be no shortage of time to force England’s hand. “The good news?”

“Temeraire was sighted during the battle. None of the scouts are sure, but some say they saw the captain on his back, and I do not know how they could convince the beast to fight otherwise.”

Napoleon clenches his hands behind his back; so there is hope, then. Laurence may be alive yet, although that is no guarantee of his future safety. Trying to appear composed, he replies, “I do not think I would call that good news, entirely; but certainly it is well that the captain is not dead.”

Murat throws him a look that Napoleon does not care to interpret. “Sir, you would be lying to yourself and fooling no one if you claimed you are not rather attached to the captain.”

“If by that you mean that I do not want him to die, then yes; but I would hardly call that attached.” Napoleon tries and fails to ignore the fact that his heart is racing. Murat does not know, _cannot_ know. He has spoken of it to no one, and surely he hasn’t been _that_ obvious.

Murat only shrugs. “You seemed very determined to convince him to stay in Paris is all. Also, Lien wishes to see you, and the full reports of the battle should be in within the day. I will alert you when our intelligence is sufficient.”

“Thank you; tell Berthier and the other Marshalls as well. Davout’s report should be in shortly, and I should like to know when it arrives.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lien is waiting on the wide lawn outside the commandeered nobleman’s house, almost completely unmoving as she watches the sea in the distance. The sun is creeping lower in the sky, it’s beams only just piercing the thick layer of clouds.

“You are distracted,” she says, turning to face him as he approaches. “It is paramount that you are focused during this time, when our grip on England is still somewhat tenuous. What calls you away from your thoughts?”

As usual, she is unnervingly perceptive. “It is nothing, madame; if I appear distracted, it is only because we are in foreign lands.”

Evidently, this rather thin excuse is not particularly satisfying. “The fate of the Englishman caused you much distress; it still weighs on your mind,” she says. Her tone is faintly tinged with irritation, though she does a good job of hiding it. Of course she would be displeased; Laurence is her nemesis’ closest ally.

“It did - it still does. I would not see such a man hanged - even you, for all your loathing of his companion, must acknowledge his honorability.”

Lien turns back towards the sea, eyes distant and hard. “He has taken the only correct course, which will result in his death. An honorable death, certainly; but death nonetheless.”

“As of yet, he may have skirted that end - my scouts have seen Temeraire upon the battlefield, and with him a captain.”

Napoleon has never seen Lien express any emotion beyond the mildest capacity. Her temperament seems to be completely under her control. He has thus learned, to a degree, how to interpret her miniscule movements - the twitch of her ruff, a slight shift in her tail. Now, however, he feels a distinct desire to be somewhat farther away from her as her ruff slowly rises to its full height, the webbing stretched pale and thin, retaining her self-discipline even in what can only be white-hot rage.

“And here,” she says, her voice too neutral. “I would have thought him defeated and despairing; but it seems that even his own nation lacks the power to properly punish him.”

“There is still time yet, madame.” Unfortunately. “Parliament and the hazards of battle are not yet out of opportunities to see him done in for good.” These are the thoughts that have been running through his head for too long now, though for very different reasons.

Lien does not speak for a moment. Her gaze is carefully trained on the horizon, like she is seeing somewhere far away. Then she says, “You will not execute him if you are given the opportunity.”

“No, madame,” he says softly, carefully gauging her reaction. “I cannot do such a thing in good conscience.” This is not a lie - it would be dishonorable to execute a man to whom he owes such a debt - but more self-serving reasons are certainly in play.

“I see.”

A beat passes as Lien considers his answer, almost completely still except for the rise and fall of her breath. “There are other ways to take revenge,” she says at last. “And he may yet perish in battle, or at the hands of his government.”

There is a clear message in her words: she has not come this far only to lose patience now. He wonders with no little unease what she has in mind should they capture Temeraire. It would be something subtle, something sweet and yet poisoned - a confined life after she has taken his country, won the war, and the long game of slowly watching his captain wither under defeat. He will have to watch that too, he realizes with a start - Laurence will live, when he succeeds, but the country he loves so much will be lost.

Perhaps they will never coexist and the fleeting moment in Paris was just that: a fleeting moment. Perhaps there is nothing that even he, with all his power as an emperor, can do.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “That is true.”

The sun has sunk below the horizon, and a faint mist blows through the air in rapidly falling dark. The cold does not leave him for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's chapter one of this piece! I think there's going to be at least two more chapters - it depends on how much of the series I want to cover in one fic. I may also change the series name if I think of a better one. Thanks for reading!


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